People hates me and doesn't think I is sexy

I am still bummed out that I yet again failed to make People magazine’s list of the sexiest men alive. I made the dead list once, but that’s another story.

They named John Goodman to the list once, so I know it’s not because I am fat -- as I look positively anorexic next to that guy. And it can’t be because I am bald, because that English guy from Star Trek was on the list before, and so was that singer Seal, whose face looks like some sort of relief map.

Oprah said if you just dream it you can make it come true. So much for the power of positive thinking. I’m calling it the Fallen Angel Network, sister, and if I ever see that bus roll into my town I’m letting the air out of the tires and telling the police they use it to abduct suburban housewives. taking them to the Harpo compound in California where they brainwash bourgeous white women with designer free crap and books by Dr. Phil and force them to read novels they were too drunk to read in college.

Talk to the hand, the hand that uses moisturizer, just like those Queer Eye guys said. Fat good it did me. Likewise those fabulous decorating tips, the recipes that cost $50 each to make, and the Michael Buble CDs.

How can the people at People not see my inner beauty, the kind that really counts? To hell with you Deepak Okra and your mystical vegetarian bullshit. May you be reincarnated as the sinus cavity of a super model.

And to hell with that chick singer, the one with the song about being Beautiful. I danced around my living room in my boxer briefs, believing every word. Honey, you’re beautiful because you can afford backlighting and a good plastic surgeon.

If People can’t accept the fact that I am sexy, I am calling for a total boycott. I refuse to read another copy, even if it is the only magazine in the doctor’s office, or the last rag I haven’t look at while using the stair machine at the gym, because frankly that’ s the only time I ever pick up a copy.

Still, it hurts.